


The Coolest Girls in Derry

by peevee



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F!Richie, F/F, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Just gals being pals, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Rule 63, Smoking, Snark, bad skateboarding, exchange treat, mentions of Bev/Bill, mentions of F!Richie/F!Eddie, mild canon-typical homophobia, mild internalised homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25400650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peevee/pseuds/peevee
Summary: “Wanna go to Bangor? Let’s skip class. I can take my dad’s car, he won’t care. We can go to the mall, go to the movies.”“Yeah,” said Bev. “Okay, yeah, let’s do that.”
Relationships: Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44
Collections: Rule 63 Exchange 2020





	The Coolest Girls in Derry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlingargents](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/gifts).



> Hi darlingargents, I hope you enjoy this; I had an absolute blast writing it! I totally fell in love with Bev/F!Richie and your prompts of them hanging out and smoking together, snark & bruised knees just spoke to my soul, as well as the idea of them as bffs with benefits.  
> This fic is set in the summer of 1993, so they’re both around 17. There is a passing mention of underage sex (14/15), and hints of canon abuse, but nothing lingering or detailed.
> 
> Thanks to R for the beta <3

The house was quiet when Richie woke up. This was unusual; normally, mornings were a rush of _fuckshowerglassesbrushteethbrushhairbagbagbagwherethefuck - ?_ , banging down the stairs and shoving a banana in her pocket, no time for breakfast if she didn’t want to get yet another fucking tardy slip. She grabbed her glasses and squinted blurrily at the clock next to the bed, then jumped at a clattering noise from the window. What the fuck? Richie dragged herself out of bed and pulled the curtain to one side to squint out into the street. 

“Richie,” Bev hissed, letting a fistful of stones fall to the ground. “Let me in!”

She was dressed haphazardly, her hair a wild tangle obscuring most of her face, and she was hunched in on herself against the slight chill of the morning air. 

“Shit!” Richie said. “Can you still get up the tree?”

“ _Yes_ I can still get up the fucking tree, I’m not eighty. Just open the window, will you?”

Richie drew the curtains as quietly as she could and swung the window out on its hinges. Bev scrambled up the trunk, well-used handholds so familiar she wasn’t even looking, just holding out her arm for Richie to grab so they could tumble onto the floor of her bedroom together. 

“Shh!” Richie gasped, starting to giggle as Bev flailed awkwardly on top of her. “What the fuck, Beverly. It’s 6am! This is unacceptable!”

Bev didn’t laugh back, just pulled away to put her back against Richie’s bed and draw her knees up. 

“Bev? Shit, sorry, you can come here any time, obviously. Are you like… okay?”

Bev sniffed, then slowly raised her hand to pull her thicket of hair away from her face to reveal a ring of dark red around her right eye, already starting to swell. Her lip was split, too. She gazed at Richie, her mouth set.

“Oh, shit, Bev.” Richie scooted closer tentatively, until they sat side by side on the floor. She let her knee knock into Bev’s. “I’m sorry. He’s a piece of fucking shit.”

Bev had confessed that she thought she’d killed her dad that summer. That he’d been different, when she’d come back from Portland. She’d stayed with her aunt for a semester while he’d been in hospital, but he’d been out before winter break. _He’s like a ghost, Rich. Like he doesn’t even realise I’m there. It’s better, but I still wish… I wish I’d fucking done it properly._

Bev let her head drop onto Richie’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s… he doesn’t really know who I am, any more. He keeps calling me mom’s name.”

“Fuck, Bev -”

“It wasn’t… I just startled him. It’s not like it was before, Richie. I promise.”

Richie nudged her foot against Bev’s.

“Do you want, like… a hug? Or whatever?”

“Don’t strain yourself,” said Bev drily, but she was smiling when Richie glanced at her, and accepted the awkward circle of Richie’s lanky arms around her middle. 

“You’re an idiot,” she said, as Richie squirmed her legs out, her face pressed into Bev’s side, glasses digging into her nose.

“What? This isn’t the solution to all your problems?”

“More like it’s crushing my ribs. Get off, come on!”

“Wait. Your ribs are like, okay? Not hurt?”

Bev grimaced. “No, they’re fine. It was just my face. I… I don’t actually want to talk about it any more, if that’s okay?”

Richie scrambled off the floor and attempted a grin, reaching out to smooth Bev’s hair behind her ear. “Fine and dandy, me lass! Nah then, nah then, what can yer old pal Richie do for yah today?”

“Oh god, not the British one, _please_ , Rich, I’m begging you.”

“Well, I say! Whatever do you mean, good madam?” said Richie, making her voice high and nasal. Bev giggled, and swatted at her as she clowned around the room, curtseying. 

“Richie! You’re such an idiot, oh my God.”

“This is the thanks I get for waking up in the _middle of the night_ to let you into my room?”

“Drama queen,” said Bev, but she was clambering up off the floor and into Richie’s bed to wrap herself in Richie’s blankets. Richie felt her heart flopping around in her chest, and she leaped in next to Bev to try to quieten the feeling, shifting until they were nose-to-nose. 

“Can we steal some makeup from your mom?” Bev’s breath was warm, and smelled like toothpaste.

“Sure, Bee. We can make your hair cover some of it too, if you want. I have some clips. We can do, like, fake bangs or something.”

“The boys are going to notice, aren’t they? And Eddie?”

Richie swallowed. “I mean, probably, yeah.”

“I don’t want them to see,” said Bev. Horrifyingly, her voice was wobbling. Shit. Richie had never seen Bev cry. She was the best one, the best of them, Richie couldn’t bear to hear that crack in her voice. 

“Wanna go to Bangor?”

Bev sniffed. “What, tonight?”

“Nuh-uh, let’s skip class. I can take my dad’s car, he won’t care. We can go to the mall, go to the movies.”

“I don’t have any money, Richie.”

“Since when has that stopped us, Molly Ringwald?” Richie tugged at her hair, poked at her sides until she was giggling again, until that watery gleam was gone from her eyes.

“Yeah,” said Bev. “Okay, yeah, let’s do that.”

-

The sun shone as they sped down the highway, windows rolled down. Bev’s hair blew out and all around her head like a cloud of fire as she yelled tunelessly along with _Smells Like Teen Spirit_ , Richie cackling at her flailing air guitar. The bruise around her eye had been disguised a little by makeup, but neither of them really knew what they were doing, and in the end Bev had just grabbed a tube of Richie’s mom’s lipstick and smeared it across her mouth, a slash of crimson that clashed with her hair.

“It’ll be distracting, y’know. From the rest of my face.”

It _was_ distracting. She looked older, somehow. Grown up, dangerous. Really fucking cool. Richie forced her eyes back to the road. Bev had even managed to make Richie’s clothes look cool, tugging this way and that at one of her big flannel shirts and tying it tight at the waist. Out of all of them, Bev had always been the cool one. Richie had pimples and hairy arms and lived in jean shorts and shirts, and even Eddie just let her mom dress her up like a little frilly doll in circle skirts and cardigans, but Bev had always looked like one of those girls you might see on the cover of _CosmoGirl_ : clear blue eyes, upturned nose sprinkled perfectly with freckles, and her _smile_... 

“You’re the coolest person I know,” Richie yelled over Kurt Cobain.

“Fuck off!” said Bev, throwing a finger up at her. 

“I mean it!” said Richie. “I’m not being an asshole!”

“You’re always an asshole, Richie,” said Bev. “But thanks. You’re cool, too.”

Richie gurned, contorting her face to make her front teeth stick out more. “Whah fank you, purty lay-dee,” she said, putting on her best Hillbilly, spit flying from her mouth. Bev shrieked and punched her arm. 

“Gross! I take it back!”

“No takebacksies!” Richie fistpumped, one hand still on the wheel. “I can’t believe I’m a cool girl now!”

“Yeah, that’s us,” said Bev, grinning at her. “The coolest girls in Derry.”

-

The parking lot at the mall was almost empty. 

“Is anything open yet?” Bev flipped her hair over her face, bending to check her reflection in the wing mirror.

“I guess it’s pretty early. Wanna get breakfast?”

Bev stood up straight and smirked. “I suppose you have a plan?”

“Hell fucking yeah I do. Watch and learn, young padawan.”

At one end of the strip mall was a McDonald’s, one half of the yellow arches blinking on and off. Richie grabbed Bev’s arm and tugged at her, clasping their hands together as they crossed the parking lot. 

“Wait here,” she said to Bev. 

“Are you serious? This is your plan?”

“Shh. The Jedi Master is working now, Beverly.”

Bev rolled her eyes and leaned back against the boarded up window of the empty lot next door. Richie strolled inside, hands in her pockets, then turned to stick her head back out of the door. 

“Be ready to run,” she whispered.

“Oh my _God_!”

Inside, there were only a few lethargic staff behind the counter, one guy at a table, hunched over a Breakfast Burrito. Richie ordered two Egg McMuffins and a couple bags of hash browns, then slouched against a burger stool. The stool opposite her gazed at her judgmentally with its large, googly eyes. 

“Fuck you, dude,” she said to it. “Eat the rich.”

“Order number… twenty-four,” said the guy behind the counter, sounding like every word was more effort than he’d ever expended in his life. “Order… number…”

“Ooh, that’s me!” said Richie, giving him a wide smile. “Thanks _so_ much, let me just get my purse.” She patted the pockets of her jeans as the guy dumped the bag on the counter. She picked it up with one hand, keeping up her pasted on grin as he stared at her with dead eyes.

“That’s a dollar eighty,” he said.

“Oh, hmm, you know what? I must have left it at home, I’m so sorry! My friend is like, _just_ outside, I’ll go let her know.”

“Wait…” said the guy, unmoving. Richie began to walk towards the door. 

“I’ll be right back, I promise!”

“You can’t do that,” he said dully, still standing motionless behind the counter. She was almost at the door. “Come back.”

Richie pushed the door open and grabbed Bev by the arm. 

“Run!”

“Shit! Fuck fuck shit!”

They ran flat out across the parking lot and onto Broadway, feet flapping on the asphalt, Bev yelling, the prize clasped safely in Richie’s hand and smelling of salt and grease. Bev tugged at Richie as they tripped through a gap in a scrubby hedge to a little hidden park, the grass littered with crumpled beer cans, a few patches of flowers half-forgotten. Richie slumped down onto the ground, half-wheezing, half-laughing.

“Breakfast!” she yelled triumphantly. “Victory over our foes!”

“I can’t believe you just did that!” said Bev. She grabbed the bag and rooted around, then sat on the ground next to Richie and took a huge bite of her McMuffin, her cheeks bulging out like a hamster. Richie ate a hash brown and licked the grease from her fingers, then burped loudly.

“ _So_ gross,” said Bev, but she was grinning around her mouthful. Richie batted her eyelashes.

“Whatcha wanna do now?” she said, after she’d scarfed her muffin. Bev’s lipstick was smudged. Richie leaned in, thumbed at the corner of her mouth. 

“You’ve got some… uh. Your lipstick.”

“Oh,” said Bev, wide-eyed. “Thanks.”

She dug around in her pockets and pulled out the tube they’d stolen from Richie’s mom and ran it over her mouth, then pressed her lips together. 

“Mwah!”

Richie mimed snapping a picture, sprawling on the grass with her imaginary camera.

“Ooh, yeah, work it!”

Bev threw the paper bag at her head, then grabbed her arm to yank her off the ground. 

“C’mon, loser. Lets go.”

They traipsed down Broadway through the park. It was late morning, and the sun was warming the air fast, the asphalt already going soft under their feet as they walked. Bev dug half a pack of bubblegum out of the pocket of her borrowed jeans, and blew a bubble so big that it got stuck in her eyebrow when it popped, and Richie almost choked laughing. She wondered what the rest of them were doing. French class, probably. Eddie would be freaking out about where they were; Richie could picture her furious little face, beetle-black eyebrows drawn together in outrage. 

Bev nudged her shoulder, making her stumble. 

“What are _you_ thinking about?” she said, eyebrows raised. “You look all… dreamy.”

“Uhh,” said Richie. Fuck. 

“Ooh-hoo!” said Bev delightedly, rounding on her with a predatory gleam in her eye. “Richie has a cru-ush! Who is it?”

“Um.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. _Think fast, Richie_. “Stan?” _Nope. Too fast._

“Nice try.” Bev looked curiously at her. “Is it someone from school? Do I know them? Is it _Bill?_ ”

The silence stretched out until it was kinda awkward, only their footsteps and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, the occasional sound of a car passing. Richie’s mind had gone blank.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” said Bev. “Sorry for pushing, we can -”

“No, it’s, uhhh. Fuck.” Richie licked her lips nervously, then stepped off the path and under a tree. Bev followed. Richie looked at her: red mouth, swelling eye beginning to darken under the makeup. She looked worried now, a slight frown on her lovely face. 

“If I told you something about me,” said Richie, turning her face away to stare up into the leaves. “Would you promise not to tell?”

“Of course, Richie!”

“Not the Losers. Not fucking _anyone_. You have to promise.”

“I promise. I promise I won’t tell anyone. You can trust me.”

Richie clenched her sweaty hands, breathed in deep. “I don’t… like boys. That way.”

She flicked her eyes back down to meet Bev’s. They were wide and blue.

“Okay,” said Bev. “Okay. Wow. I mean, you talk about dick a _lot_ for someone who isn’t into it.”

“That was all -” Richie swallowed, “all bullshit. I’ve never… I don’t _want_ -”

“Hey, sorry - no, you don’t have to explain. Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine. I talk a lot of shit, I guess.”

“So, you’re… are you saying you like girls? Are you… oh my _God_ , Richie.” Bev’s eyes went even wider, then she actually fucking clapped her hand over her mouth. “Eddie?”

Richie let her head thunk back against the trunk of the tree. 

“Ugh, I always forget how smart you are. _Yes_ , Eddie.” She felt herself blush as she tipped her head back up, pointed fiercely at Bev. “You _cannot_ tell her.”

Bev put her hands up, palms open. “I won’t! But… oh my God. Oh my God! So many things are starting to make sense.”

Richie groaned. Her heart thumped in her chest, and she breathed deeply to try and calm down. She’d told Bev. She’d told Bev and Bev was still here with her, smiling, like they were still friends, like Richie wasn’t too awful and gross to be seen with.

“I can tell you a secret too,” said Bev. “Then we’d be even, right?” She’d stepped in close, her fingers sliding into Richie’s clammy palm to hold her hand. “Remember… the year after That Summer? When me and Bill had a thing. And then we didn’t?” 

That's what they called it. That Summer, capitals implied. Stan pretended it didn’t happen. He wouldn’t even talk about it, and the rest of them talked _around_ it, like none of them wanted to look at their memories directly, like they all couldn't feel the itchy raised line of the scars on their palms.

Richie nodded.

“We never… we never, y’know. I couldn’t.” She stepped even closer, and Richie could feel the warmth of her body, smell whatever sweet scented lotion she used. She let her face press into Bev’s hair. “We got… almost there. He was gonna, um. Put it in. I totally freaked out, almost punched him in the face. I think I actually kicked him in the nuts.”

Richie snorted, and Bev pinched her side.

“It was… weird, after that. I dunno. He was so fucking careful with me, and I get it? I got it, but I fucking _hated_ it, Richie. I couldn’t even hold his hand without him tensing up like I was gonna flip, and I couldn’t even be mad at him, because sometimes I almost did? Like if he touched me wrong I'd scream."

Richie said nothing, but she pulled Bev in close and squeezed her tight. 

“I dunno what’s wrong with me. I _wanted_ to, I think. I want to. Like, God, he’s so… Bill.” She made an inarticulate sound. “Y’know? Or, I guess you don’t. What’s it like when you look at Eddie?”

Richie went hot all over. She was hardly ready to _think_ about how she felt when she looked at Eddie, never mind say it out loud to someone else. It was a liquid, heavy sort of feeling that settled low in her belly and got stuck in her throat, too much to put into words.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t really explain it, it’s just,” she shrugged tightly. “She’s Eddie.”

“Yeah,” said Bev. “Yeah. Hey!” She punched Richie lightly on the arm, then grabbed her hand again to pull her back onto the path. “Thanks for telling me. Did I say that? And, like, you know I love you, right? We all do.”

Richie pointed two fingers from her free hand towards her mouth and mimed gagging. “Ew, gross.”

Bev made a kissy face, then swung their joined hands up high between them and dragged Richie into a skipping run with her.

They started to pass more people as they got closer to the river. Bev bummed a smoke from a guy near Family Dollar, and they sat on a low wall passing it back and forth and watching a group of skaters try to grind the handrail outside the store; Bev cheered them on loudly between puffs. The day was warm, and the air smelled of summer; smoke, hot asphalt, the light rotting scent of overfilled garbage cans.

Richie ground the spent end of the cigarette onto the wall, then hopped off towards the group of skaters.

“Hey,” she said, to a guy who’d stopped to light up. “Can I have a go?”

He looked her up and down critically; jean shorts, dusty knees, flat feet in chucks. She smiled winningly, showing teeth. 

“Richie!” Bev yelled, “you’re gonna bust your face open!”

“I’m not gonna _jump_ ,” she yelled over her shoulder, then looked back at the guy. “Pleeeease?”

“Knock yourself out,” he said, then elbowed his friend. “Check this chick out.”

Richie stuck her tongue out between her teeth and approached the board warily. She nudged it with her toe, and it rolled a couple of inches forward. 

“I’m coming over there,” said Bev. “I’m not gonna be the one to drive you to the ER.”

“Just hold my hands, will you?”

“Yo! Bend your knees!” said one of the guys. Richie gave him a thumbs up and squatted, scuttling towards the board like a crab. Bev cackled at her but held her hands out so Richie could grab them. 

“Just put one foot on it, then use it like a big roller skate.”

“You say that like I’ve ever put a roller skate on, Beverly.”

She placed one foot tentatively on the center of the board and pushed off with the other. _Knees bent, knees bent, fuck -!_

Somehow, she was on her ass, the board slowly rolling away from her as the guys whooped and clapped. She scrambled back to her feet, rubbing her ass, and gave them a low, sweeping bow. Bev trotted over to grab the board, then - what the _fuck_ \- pushed off easily with one foot, switched her stance and did a clean ollie up onto the kerb. 

“Nice!” yelled the guy Richie had borrowed the skateboard from. Another one of the group wolf-whistled. Bev hopped off the board and passed it back to Richie.

“What,” said Richie, “- and I say this with the greatest sincerity - the fuck?”

Bev winked with her good eye and tossed her hair over her shoulder, and Richie felt herself literally go weak at the knees - although, actually that might have been from the falling on her ass part. Ow. She gave the board back to the skater guy, who held his hand up; she gave him a half-assed high five, but all her attention was for Bev. Bev threw a peace sign as they trailed out of the parking lot and back onto Broadway. 

“What the fuck, how are you so cool?” she hissed. “Why are you even in this club? It’s in the name! _Losers_!”

“I’m still a loser. Just because I’m not as much of a loser as _you_ ,” said Bev. “Hey! Richie! Carry me?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, just leaped onto Richie’s back and hooked her arms around Richie’s shoulders. She was warm and heavy and laughing, soft and close next to Richie’s ear.

“Jesus,” Richie wheezed, “who do you think I am, fuckin’ Xena?”

Bev reached down and squeezed the bicep of one (hairy, gangly) arm. “Hm,” she said. “Needs work.”

Richie hoisted her up higher, getting her arms under Bev’s thighs. “Where’d you learn to skate, anyway? I can’t believe I didn’t know this about you.”

“One of my cousins taught me years ago. I guess I just forgot? I can’t do anything else though, just an ollie.”

“Well _I_ can’t do anything except fall on my ass, so that’s still fucking cool.”

She galloped, neighing gamely, but had to drop Bev into a giggling heap on the grass when they reached a churchyard by the road and lie on her back to gasp for breath. Bev uncurled and lay next to her, and they watched together as clouds moved across the sky slowly, forming and unforming.

Bev rolled onto her side and propped her head up, elbow on the grass. 

“Hey,” she said, poking Richie in the side. Richie rolled to face her, mirrored her pose. “Wanna sneak into the movie theater?”

“Do you even have to ask, Beverly?”

-

Bev approached Project Movie Theater like a military operation. She grabbed a timetable from the front desk, and they scurried out behind the building to lurk at the exit door. 

“Look,” said Bev, jabbing her finger at an ad for a matinee showing of _Groundhog Day_. “This started at eleven, so if we factor in commercials, they should be leaving in twenty minutes.” She folded the timetable and shoved it in her back pocket. “If we time it right, we can get in while everyone is leaving, and nobody should notice us.”

“You’re a tactical fucking genius.”

“So that just leaves the problem of snacks. Any ideas, Private Tozier?”

Richie scratched her chin. She was no stranger to minor shoplifting, but usually she liked to scope out the joint first.

“I think I saw a Circle K a couple blocks back,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll see what I can find. You keep lookout.”

“Roger,” said Bev, tipping her hand to her forehead in a sloppy salute. “Move out!”

“Hut hut hut!” yelled Richie as she jogged back towards the road, lifting her knees high.

The Circle K was practically empty, only the faint sound of Burt Bacharach drifting through the aisles. Richie combed her fingers through her hair and tried not to look suspicious as she browsed bags of chips and snuck a glance at the cashier, a girl about Richie’s age who had a phone between her shoulder and her ear, and was picking dirt out from under her nails with a file. _Perfect_. 

“...and _then_ he said ‘Crystal, I didn’t even look at her! I swear!’ Lying pig. I shoulda slapped him, I know, I know. He gave me the puppy dog eyes, though, Betty; how can I say no?”

There was a pause, and Crystal shifted the phone away from her ear to yell at Richie. “Just ask if ya need anything, okay?”

“Will do!” said Richie, even as Crystal went back to her nails and her phone call. She grabbed a family pack of jalapeño cheddar doritos and some cosmic brownies, and strolled as casually as she could back to the exit. 

“Thanks, see you!” she said, over her shoulder. Crystal didn’t even turn around. “See ya!”

Richie ran the three blocks back to the movie theater, then hid her ill-gotten gains behind her back. 

“Get the goods?” said Bev. 

Richie pulled them out and gave them a little wiggle. “Jackpot!”

“T minus five minutes,” said Bev, tapping her watch. “If we hide behind that dumpster, I think we should be able to sneak in after everyone’s left.”

They crouched behind it, breathing through their mouths against the smell of hot garbage that drifted through the air around them. 

“Isn’t this just what you wanted when you came to my place this morning,” murmured Richie, close to Bev’s ear. “Hiding behind a dumpster with stolen goods, waiting to get kicked out of a movie theater.”

“We’re not going to get kicked out,” said Bev. “My plans always work out.” She turned around to give Richie a blinding grin. “And yeah. This is exactly what I wanted, Richie.”

The doorknob on the emergency exit rattled. 

“This is it!” Bev grabbed Richie’s hand. The door banged open, and people trailed slowly out, laughing and talking about the movie. Bev’s fingers were warm around Richie’s. She glanced around quickly, then stood up, edged around the dumpster, and before Richie could do anything she was pulling them both inside. It was pitch black, their eyes not adjusting quickly enough, and Richie stumbled over a seat, shaking with suppressed giggles. 

“Shh, shh!” said Bev. “Let’s hope that this is one of those places that doesn’t bother cleaning up between showings.”

Gradually, the rows of seats started to become more visible, and Richie pulled Bev towards the back, where they were hopefully less likely to be spotted if somebody did come in. 

“Do we know what’s playing next?”

Bev squirmed around to free the timetable from her back pocket and passed it to Richie. 

“ _Dazed and Confused_. I think I’ve heard of this dude? He did an interview with Rolling Stone a couple months ago.”

“Of course you read Rolling Stone,” said Bev. 

“What? What’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t know,” said Bev. “It’s not wrong, it’s just funny. It suits you.”

Richie blew a raspberry at her and opened the brownies. A couple more people trailed into the theater before the start of the movie, but it looked like _Dazed and Confused_ wasn’t causing a sensation in Bangor. 

“Hey,” whispered Richie, as the movie started. “Bev. We’re in the makeout seats!” She waggled her eyebrows dramatically and made a smoochy face, leaning in close so that Bev would laugh, or push her away. Bev didn’t do either of those things. She turned her face, so that only half of it was illuminated by the screen, and leaned in to peck Richie softly on the lips. Then she raised her eyebrows and sat back in her seat, looking smug. Richie dropped what remained of her brownie on the floor. 

She stared at the screen, unseeing, her mouth tingling. Nobody had ever kissed her before. She wanted to touch her hand to her mouth, to feel if there were any traces of Bev’s lipstick, but she was frozen, somehow, like if she moved, Bev would realise. She would realise that she had kissed _Richie_ , and be totally grossed out and tell _everyone_ and - 

Warm, sticky fingers clasped around Richie’s in the dark. Bev leaned in close to whisper in her ear, though there was nobody near enough to hear. 

“Are you freaking out?”

“No - what - shut up. _You’re_ freaking out.” Richie squeezed her hand tight.

“Sorry,” murmured Bev. She was close enough that Richie could feel the little puffs of air against her jaw as Bev spoke. “It can be a joke, if you want.”

“Ha ha,” said Richie, weakly. 

“Or,” said Bev, “I mean, I know you’re… you know. Eddie. But…”

Richie turned to look at her in the dark, their faces so close together that Bev was an out-of-focus blur. Richie pushed her glasses up her nose and moved away a little so that she could see better.

“But?”

Bev swallowed visibly. Now that Richie could see her properly, she looked nervous. Not at all like she was planning to shove Richie away and tell the whole world what a freak she was. 

“Wanna make out?” she said. 

“Uh,” said Richie intelligently. Her brain appeared to have clunked to a slow halt, and all she seemed to be capable of was staring at Bev’s red mouth. Luckily, Bev still seemed to have higher brain function. She leaned in, and - _fuck_ \- sucked Richie’s lower lip into her mouth. Richie made a too-loud noise through her nose, and Bev pulled back to shush her, giggling. 

“Oh my God,” Richie whispered, high pitched and nasal, “you can’t shush me when you’re the one who - umph!”

Bev started more gently, this time. She pressed her mouth to Richie’s, slid her hand up to Richie’s shoulder to pull her in, to make the angle easier, and _God_ , Richie felt herself melting into Bev’s touch. She would do whatever the fuck Bev said, would go wherever she said to go. She kissed back hesitantly, copying Bev, the soft slick sounds of their mouths moving together making her want to shudder and moan and grab at Bev to pull her in but she couldn’t do any more than mirror the gentle movements of Bev’s lips against her own. 

Bev pulled back, her eyes half lidded, looking at Richie’s mouth. 

“Okay?” she said. 

“Fuuck,” Richie groaned quietly. She slid down a little in her seat, feeling like something half-melted and formless. Bev grinned at her, her lips suddenly illuminated by whatever the fuck was going on on-screen, a slash of smeared red. She kissed Richie again, firmer this time, and when Richie felt Bev’s tongue slipping out to move along her lower lip she couldn’t stop the low whine that escaped her. Fuck. Who knew kissing would be so fucking hot? She wondered if Bev was feeling it too, that liquid heat between her legs and all over her body, from kissing Richie. Probably not; Richie was goofy-looking, too tall and too awkward, and nobody in the history of ever had described her as _hot_ , but Bev was… fuck. 

Bev’s hand was still gripping Richie’s shoulder, and she pulled Richie in firmly so she could tilt her head and slide her tongue properly into Richie’s mouth. Richie panted, very quickly feeling like it was indecent to be in fucking public, where anyone could turn around and see them necking in the back row. She squirmed against the seam of her shorts, overwhelmed, until she had to pull away to catch her breath. Bev let her, loosening her grip on Richie’s shoulder to stroke her hair. 

“Wanna hear another secret?” she said, low. 

“Uh,” managed Richie. 

“You’re a better kisser than Bill.”

Richie snorted a laugh as quietly as she could. 

“He’s so slobbery,” Bev continued, starting to giggle with her. The tension that had been building and building in Richie’s body didn’t exactly break, but it suddenly felt less like she was going to spill out of her skin. She was still bright with arousal, but it felt more like the couple of times she’d been half-drunk, a pleasant haziness flowing all through her to the tips of her fingers. 

“What about Ben?” she said without thinking. “Am I better than him? He kissed you too, right?”

It was too dark to see her face, but Bev was silent for a few too many moments, and Richie immediately felt like a total heel. Fucking obviously she didn’t want to think about that kiss, in the stink of the sewers. To think about what she’d seen in the deadlights. _Shut the fuck up, Richie. You’ve ruined it, as always_.

But when the light from the screen illuminated Bev’s face briefly, she didn’t look upset. She was smiling a little, and she seemed to shake herself out of whatever thoughts she was having to look back at Richie. 

“Yeah, he did. It was nice.”

“ _Nice_.”

“Yeah, shithead! It was just a peck, anyway. He just wanted me to wake up, or whatever.”

“Alright, _Sleeping Beauty_ , whuh -?”

Suddenly, a bright light was being shone directly into Richie’s face. She squinted, and could vaguely make out the shape of a large person wearing an usher’s hat looming over them. Shit. Busted. 

“You two,” the usher hissed. “Tickets.”

“Uhhhh,” said Richie. 

“I’m _so_ sorry,” said Bev sweetly. “We threw them in the trash on the way in. Isn’t that right, Susie?” Richie blinked at her, then nodded mutely at the usher. 

“Nice try,” the usher said, stepping closer. “Out, both of you, before I call the cops.” He flicked the torch towards the exit. 

“‘My plans always work, Richie! We won’t get caught, Richie!’” Richie hissed at Bev under her breath as they scurried back out into the daylight, the usher glowering behind them, arms crossed as he stood by the entrance. Bev stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry, then her eyes went wide as she caught a look at Richie’s face. 

“You have lipstick _all_ over - oh my God.” Bev cackled. 

“Well,” Richie spluttered, “- fucking - so do you!”

They found a parked car nearby; Richie crouched by the wing mirror to scrub at her mouth with her sleeve. She caught Bev’s eye through the passenger window, where she was doing the same by the other door, and pressed her smile into the fabric of her flannel.

The sun was still pretty high in the sky, and the heat clearly hadn’t abated since they’d been in the movie theater. It beat down on them as they made their way back up Broadway, and by the time they reached the mall Richie was sweating and Bev was pink with the heat, her hair all frizzed up. Richie flapped her shirt, holding her arms out like a grounded vulture to try to get some air. The thought of trailing around the meager offering of stores the strip mall had to offer was pretty unappealing.

“Hey,” she said, as Bev dragged her feet listlessly across the parking lot. “Let’s go home and swim in the quarry.”

“Ohh,” said Bev, closing her eyes as if she was slipping into the cool water right there, “ _yes_ , please, Richie.”

“Uh,” said Richie. She tore her eyes away from Bev’s newly pink mouth. She’d kissed those lips. Tasted them, felt them move against hers. Fuck. “Yeah. Okay. C’mon then.”

“Shotgun!” said Bev, then laughed. 

“I don’t know why everyone says _you’re_ the cool one,” Richie complained, “when you’re such a fucking idiot.”

“You said I was the coolest person you knew,” said Bev, climbing into the passenger seat. “You said it literally this morning. Twice.”

“Well obviously I’m an idiot too.” She searched around the glove box, found the tape she was looking for and shoved in into the stereo; _Houdini_ by Melvins, because Kurt Cobain had said they were his favourite band. The music was heavy and pounding and made her feel fucking powerful as she sped back towards Derry, looking over at Bev, headbanging together like the scene from _Wayne’s World_ , which they’d all watched huddled together in Bill’s garage. Bev stuck her head out of the window; the wind caught her hair and spread it in all directions. 

“Fuck yeah!” she yelled. 

“Fuck yeah!” Richie yelled back. 

They drove right up to the quarry; Richie parked at the end of the service road. It was more difficult to get to the cliff this way, but her dad’s car wasn’t air conditioned, and all she wanted was to get into the water as quickly as possible. Bev was scrambling out of the car and shedding her clothes almost as soon as they’d stopped, and by the time Richie had put the car into park and opened her door, Bev was running in with a shout.

Richie yanked her shorts and chucks off, stripped out of her sweaty shirt and ran after her, unable to stop a hiss escaping her as she splashed into the cool, murky water. Bev had already dived under, and surfaced with a gasp, her bright hair slicked dark with water. Her face was pale, the swollen red of her eye stark against her skin. Richie let herself sink below the surface, then bobbed up to float on her back, the water coming up over her ears with a sudden rush of silence. The sky was blue and endless above her, the water mild. It felt like she was floating on thick, enveloping air.

A hand circled around her ankle. Bev tugged her under, and Richie shouted and thrashed, gaining nothing but a mouthful of chalky water. 

“You little fucking monster,” she spluttered, when Bev surfaced a few feet away, pushing her hair from her face. Bev shrieked and tried to paddle away, but Richie was faster and caught up with her quickly, grabbing at her slippery body under the water. They wrestled for a few seconds, trying to dunk each other unsuccessfully. 

“Get _off_ me, you’re like a fucking octopus!” Bev giggled, smacking at Richie’s legs and splashing water up all around them.

“You started this,” said Richie severely, getting her legs wound more tightly around Bev and trying to use her weight to drag them both under. Bev twisted so she could pinch at Richie’s sides, which made Richie squawk and squirm and loosen her grip. They ended up pressed face-to-face, Richie’s legs tight around Bev’s waist, her hands grabbing Bev’s shoulders. 

“Uh,” said Richie, going still. Even under the water, Bev’s skin was warm and soft. Her bra had gone a little translucent from being wet. Richie blinked and tried to keep her eyes on Bev’s face, but that only meant looking at her mouth. 

“Remember when I first came here with you guys?” said Bev, getting her arms around Richie’s waist to support her. 

“You jumped first,” said Richie, swallowing, looking up into her eyes. “You were braver than all of us.”

“Mm,” Bev said, noncommittal. Then she kissed Richie, her mouth cool and slick with water. Richie stilled, frozen. Bev took the advantage, hooked her arms properly around Richie’s waist and used her weight to heave them both sideways. All Richie managed was a strangled gurgle as she went down.

“That is below the fucking belt, Beverly,” she said as she surfaced, splashing Bev lightly. She could feel that her face was bright red even though she’d just been dunked.

“Not yet it isn’t,” said Bev slyly. She sent a wave of water at Richie’s face with her palms; most of it went in her open mouth.

“Are you saying -” she said, once she’d spat her mouthful back over at Bev (“Ew, Richie! Gross!”), “you’re saying, you wanna -? Tell me if I’m being an idiot here, Bev.”

This time, Bev blushed. She did it prettily, though; not like Richie, who always ended up looking like a sweaty tomato, or Eddie, who got all blotchy and pissed about it.

“I think so?” said Bev, like a question. “I mean, if _you_ do. It could be fun. Or nice. I dunno.”

“Woah,” said Richie. She kicked her feet back and forth, floating in place. “Wait. Have you, like… before?” Bev had seemed to take Richie’s confession earlier in her stride. Had kissed her easily, like she’d… thought about that before. Or done it.

Bev reddened even more. “It’s gonna sound fucked up,” she said.

“Was it… bad? Shit, Bev, sorry I -”

“No, no, it wasn’t bad. And I only _kissed_ them, I haven’t…” she bit her lip. “It was Gretta.”

Richie’s eyebrows felt like they were crawling off her fucking face. “Gretta _Keene_?” Gretta Keene, who whispered _dyke_ at Richie under her breath every motherfucking time they passed in the hallway. Who’d left a decomposing rat in Stan’s locker and made him cry in gym class. Who’d made Bev’s life a living hell every school year. Like there were any other Grettas in Derry. What the fuck.

“I didn’t… ask for it, Richie. She kissed me.” Bev swallowed, her mouth turned down. “I think she’s really unhappy.”

“Well boo fucking hoo for her,” said Richie. “What the fuck. She’s at my throat for… for fucking _years_ , Bev -” 

“Yeah,” said Bev. “I know.”

“Fuck. Wait - was this last fall?” Richie remembered, suddenly, that she’d seen Gretta outside at the Halloween Dance. Richie had been dressed as a cat, smoking a cigarette under the bleachers and trying to sear the image of Eddie dressed as Supergirl onto the inside of her eyelids. The little red miniskirt that skimmed her golden thighs dangerously, those knee high socks. Fuck. She’d been interrupted by the sound of somebody sobbing, and found Gretta hunched up on the steps, tears streaking through her makeup. They’d made eye contact for a long, uncomfortable moment. Richie had waited for Gretta to spit out something vicious, to tell her to _fuck off, Bitchie_ , but Gretta had said nothing. Richie had crushed her cigarette under the toe of her boots and left her there, but after that, Gretta never said anything to her in the hallways. Never whispered viciously in her ear as they passed each other in the cafeteria. Nothing. 

“Yeah. At Halloween. I mean, we didn’t exactly _talk_ -”

“No fucking kidding. Holy shit, Bev!”

“She looked so upset, I don’t know. I couldn’t just leave her like that.”

“ _I_ did. Easy peasy. Managed not to stick my tongue down her throat either.”

Bev rolled her eyes. “I didn’t even say anything, she just jumped me. I thought she was going to hit me.”

“Shit. Was it… good?”

Bev’s tongue came out briefly to wet her lips. “Yeah, it was… yeah.”

“Jesus. Gretta fucking Keene.”

“You can’t tell anyone. About her, I mean.”

“I’m not that much of a fucking asshole, Bev, come on.”

“I know. I know, Richie.”

The mood had dipped a little. Richie considered trying to dunk Bev again to make her laugh, but there was something pretty nice about floating together in the quiet, too, the odd, whooping sound of some unseen bird the only thing breaking the stillness. She kicked her legs and took a deep breath, letting herself drift as Bev did the same next to her. The water filled her ears, until all she could hear was her own heartbeat.

They swam lazily as the sun dipped lower, until the trees that fringed the cliffs were casting long shadows like creeping fingers. Richie’s hands had long gone pruney, and she felt tired and heavy, sluggish as she paddled towards the shore and hauled herself out onto a large, flat rock to dry. Bev followed, and poked her until she shuffled over to make room. The rock had been warmed by the sun, and the heat seeped deliciously through her until she was half-dozing. Bev’s breathing was slow and even next to her. 

“Bev,” she murmured. Bev shifted and turned to face her, eyes heavy. Her hair was drying in little loops and curls against her neck. She flicked her eyes over Richie’s face, then just leaned in to kiss her again like it was the most natural thing in the world. Richie sighed into it and opened her mouth, her body coming awake quickly at the soft touches of Bev’s tongue against her own. She pulled back to pant at the sky, and Bev gave a huffing laugh. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m getting bruised all over my back from this lumpy piece of shit.” She gave the rock a slap. “Wanna go back to the car?”

“Sure thing. You don’t need any more bruises,” said Richie, letting her head loll back over to smile at Bev. 

“Mhm,” said Bev, touching her eye lightly. “Come on. You’re so fucking bony, that can’t be comfortable.”

She wasn’t, actually. The rock dug into her tailbone painfully as she sat up, but it at least distracted her from the warm pulse between her legs as she pressed her thighs together. Richie let her eyes trail slowly up Bev’s body; there was so much creamy skin on display, scattered all over with freckles, her knees and shins mottled with scuffs and bruises that matched Richie’s own. She wore a soft white cotton bra, slightly discoloured from the water, and matching panties edged with delicate blue lace. Richie could make out the springy shape of her pubic hair beneath the fabric, and that sent a clench of heat through her, settling low in her belly. She blinked rapidly, and glanced up to see Bev smirking down at her. 

“You’re so pretty,” Richie breathed, unable to stop her thoughts spilling out of her mouth. Bev’s eyes lidded slightly. She flicked her eyes up and down Richie, and Richie fought the urge to curl in on herself. 

“You too,” said Bev, and Richie didn’t fight the urge to roll her eyes. “What?” Bev said indignantly. “You are!”

“Bev, come on. You don’t need to, fucking… butter me up, here. I’m a sure thing.”

Bev stepped closer and punched Richie - hard! Ow! - on the shoulder, then glared at her. 

“You’re, you -” she said, swallowing. “Your legs are sexy. And… you have nice eyes. Your eyelashes are so dark, it’s really pretty.”

 _Your legs are sexy_. Fuck. Fuck.

“Uh.”

“And, um. I want to… can I touch, um. Your,” Bev blushed, stammering, “your boobs, Richie. They’re so nice. Can I -?”

Oh, _God_. Richie felt herself shuddering at Bev’s words, her shoulders going back, chest pushing out for Bev to… for her to touch them, holy fucking shit. Bev reached out and - oh so gently - cupped a hand over one of Richie’s tits, palm centered over her nipple. Richie moaned, _loudly_ , then felt her face going red at how she could hear it echoing in the quiet of the quarry. It was like her nipple was connected directly to her clit, and every time she breathed everything shifted around and sent little licks of pleasure all over her body.

“Oh,” said Bev. “Wow.” She slid her palm to the side and flicked her thumb over Richie’s nipple, which was poking to attention through her bra.

“Bev!” Richie cried out, jerking in Bev’s grip. She’d never felt anything fucking like this. Not when she was touching herself, not even when she was thinking about Eddie, fingers cramped up inside herself as she imagined touching Eddie, Eddie touching her, kissing her. She could feel that she was already wetter than she’d ever been, and Bev had hardly even done anything. Had only just _kissed_ her. Ever since the movie theater Richie had been alive with tension, and now she was on some sort of precipice, she was going to either come or cry and she wasn’t sure which would happen first.

“God,” said Bev. She looked dazed. “Let’s get in the car, come on.”

Richie nodded, her legs wobbling as she stood. Bev opened the door to the back seat and raised her eyebrows at Richie, then scrambled in, leaving her legs splayed a little for Richie to climb between. Richie had always been awkward, and now that she’d grown taller she was never exactly sure where to put her limbs, how to fit herself into spaces. She crawled ungracefully onto the back seat, her knees between Bev’s open legs, her hands bracing herself on either side of Bev’s waist. Richie’s hair fell down from her shoulders and formed a stringy, damp curtain around them, so that all she could see was Bev’s shadowed, smiling face. She leaned down, and Bev leaned up; Bev hit her lip on one of Richie’s teeth, and then they were both giggling again, trying to kiss, but the angle was weird. Richie flopped down on top of Bev. 

“We’re bad at this,” she said mournfully.

“Shut up,” Bev giggled, then slapped Richie’s ass lightly. 

“Kinky!”

“Get off for a second, idiot.” Then, because Bev knew her very well, she put a hand over Richie’s mouth before she could even open it. Richie licked her instead.

“Do you or do you not want me to -”

“Yes! I do! I do want!” Richie scrambled off her, trying not to elbow her in the nose or something. Bev got herself sitting upright in the middle seat, and beckoned Richie. 

“On my lap,” she said. _Shit_. Richie swallowed, and swung one leg over her, until she was straddling Bev. Her head brushed against the roof of the car, but she didn’t have to duck down, and she settled her ass onto Bev’s spread thighs. Bev looked her up and down, then with no fucking warning whatsoever - fuck! - slid her right hand between Richie’s legs to cup her over her panties. 

Richie - there was no other word for it - squeaked. Bev didn’t really seem to have a plan for what she was going to do, and they just stared at each other for a few long moments, Richie’s breathing loud and harsh in the small space. 

“You’re so warm,” said Bev wonderingly. “Can I -?”

“Yes,” Richie blurted. “Yes, fucking, anything, Bev.”

Bev drew her fingers back - what, _no_ \- then hooked them into the waistband of Richie’s panties and twisted them, slid them right against the slippery folds of Richie’s cunt.

“Jesus, you’re wet,” she said. 

Richie’s legs almost gave out, even though they weren’t supporting her. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bev was touching her. Bev’s fingers were touching her, sliding tentatively against her, and Richie felt like she was going to explode, or implode, or writhe out of her fucking skin as she moaned helplessly. Bev was barely even moving, just holding her fingers there, but Richie was so close to the edge that it was hardly going to take anything to push her over it. Just when she was on the verge of grabbing Bev’s wrist and grinding shamelessly against her hand, Bev’s left hand drifted up and over the fabric of Richie’s bra to hold one breast. She used her thumbnail to flick over Richie’s nipple, back and forth, so fucking gentle Richie could have screamed.

“Keep,” Richie gasped instead, “oh, keep doing that.”

“Do you want my finger inside you?”

“Fuck. Fuck, yes.”

It was only one slender finger that slipped into her, but it felt fucking monumental. She clenched, helplessly, and Bev gave a little gasp. 

“You’re so hot inside, Richie,” she said. “Oh my God.” 

She pulled her finger out, then Richie could feel that she had pointed two together and she was pushing in with them both, _fucking_ Richie. She was getting fucked by Bev Marsh in the back of a car, where anyone could come past and see them. Bev’s fingers were fucking, they were - 

Richie whined, lurched forward and kissed Bev as she started to come, waves upon waves of it flooding through her from so deep inside her she thought she might cry from the force of it. Bev’s tongue gentled her through it, her free hand coming up to cup the back of Richie’s neck and she shuddered and squirmed and finally let herself droop down, utterly spent. Bev slipped her fingers out and let them trail wetly on Richie’s bare thigh.

Her mouth was soft, and delicious, and Richie kept kissing her until her jaw ached and Bev was wriggling underneath her. 

“Richie,” she gasped. “Could you - uh -?” She grabbed Richie’s hand and tugged it down between her legs. 

“Oh, shit,” Richie gasped. “Sorry. Yes.” She scooted back a bit to get a better angle, but there was no way she was going to have enough room to get her fingers up into Bev, which she really desperately fucking wanted to do. 

“Could we swap?”

There was some awkward shuffling and squirming around as they switched places, but finally Bev was kneeling up over Richie's legs, arms braced on the headrest. She leaned down and gave Richie a slow, deep kiss. Richie's hands rested lightly on Bev's knees, and as Bev panted into her mouth, she slid them up and onto Bev's thighs.

"Can you, uh-" she said, moving her hands in small rubbing movements, "can you tell me what to do? What you want?"

Bev raised herself up and looked down at Richie, eyes dark. 

"Just… touch me," she said, low. 

Richie swallowed audibly. "Fuck, Bev. Okay."

She edged her hand higher, playing with the frilly edge of Bev's panties. Bev's eyes shut, her head tipping back, and Richie moved a little more purposefully, rubbing her over the thin fabric. 

“Oh,” Bev breathed. “Oh.”

Taking a deep breath, Richie hooked her fingers into the panties at Bev’s hips and dragged them down until they were tightly digging in just above her knees. She nearly moaned at what she saw; a soft pouf of reddish blonde hair that thickly covered the mound of Bev’s cunt, matted wet all along her slit. Her mouth ached with a sudden rush of saliva, her head spun. 

“Oh my _God_ , Bev. Can I see, I want to, please let me -?”

If there had been any lingering doubt left anywhere at the back of Richie’s mind that she was attracted to girls, the intense, almost painful spike of want that drove into her belly flung that thought out of the fucking window. She reached a trembling hand up to pet at the hair delicately, to part it so she could see what it obscured. Bev spread her legs a little, accommodating, and Richie slid her fingers past the hair to where Bev was so hot, soaking wet, dark pink and delectable-looking. Richie bit her lip hard. God, she wanted to get her mouth there. 

“Oh, Richie,” said Bev, barely above a whisper. “That’s so nice.” She ducked her head down for another kiss, the press of her mouth soft and light. Richie rubbed her fingers back and forth, head spinning at the dual sensations of Bev’s tongue and the complex, slippery-slick folds of her against the sensitive pads of her fingers. She wanted to do this forever, but she also wanted to make Bev come, to make her feel so good.

“How do I,” she started, pulling her mouth away, “I mean. Fuck. Do you think I can make you - y’know?”

“A little faster,” Bev panted. Her thighs were shaking slightly, knees squeezing on either side of Richie’s legs. Richie moved faster, trying to remember what felt the best when she touched herself. She let her fingers slip-slide along the full length of her, and knew she’d done something right when Bev yelped and shifted her grip from the headrest to Richie’s shoulder, fingers punishingly tight.

“Don’t stop,” she gritted out. “Oh, don’t, don’t -”

Richie didn’t stop. Her hand was starting to cramp, her elbow aching but she kept it moving, eyes greedily roaming over Bev, trying to imprint this moment permanently onto her memory. Bev’s warmth, her salt-briny smell, the little cut-off noises she was making as she tensed and shuddered and oh, _fuck_ , pulsed almost imperceptibly against Richie’s fingers as she came. 

“Fuck, Bev,” Richie groaned. “That’s so… you’re so -” She couldn’t help it, she had to move her hand back, to slip two fingers up and sink them into Bev’s hot, slippery-wet cunt. Her eyes almost rolled back in her head at the feel of it; yielding, burning heat. Bev was still coming, making hot little gasping noises, and Richie could feel the muscles inside her clenching over and over again.

“Rich,” Bev whined. “Fuck me with them, you have to - oh _God_.”

Richie shoved her fingers up, a little harder than she’d meant to, but Bev just moaned and pushed down and they gasped and ground together for a few long moments. 

“Jesus,” said Bev finally, sounding a little dazed. She stayed flopped over Richie’s lap, Richie’s fingers still inside her.

“Um,” Richie managed, her throat clicking as she swallowed. She tried not to squirm too obviously. If she could just get her fingers against her clit, she thought she could probably come again in about ten seconds. 

"Are you still…?" said Bev, sounding interested. 

Richie nodded, blushing hot. 

"You could show me," Bev said. "I want to see."

"Uh," said Richie. Good work, Tozier. Really pulling out the stops with all the monosyllables, here. She pulled her fingers out of Bev with an obscene, wet sound, and Bev scrambled off her lap clumsily. Richie pulled her panties down and mostly off, leaving them hooked over her left knee. Her fingers were still wet with Bev's come when she pressed them against herself, and the thought of it was so fucking filthy that she gasped as she pushed them up and inside. 

“Wow,” said Bev, “you’re so wet.” She put her hand under Richie’s knee and shoved it unceremoniously up to give herself a better view, then just watched, her expression curious as Richie flicked her thumb against her clit and tipped her head back and got herself off. 

Richie wondered what Eddie would think, if she saw them. If she’d be jealous, or disgusted, or - maybe worse - indifferent. With Bev, it was easy to… to show herself. Open herself up, show Bev what she liked, what she wanted. With Eddie…

With Eddie, it would be all-encompassing. She loved Bev like she loved all the others, but what she felt about Eddie was something else, something bigger. She thought sometimes that she couldn’t contain it any more, couldn’t help but let her Eddie-feelings spill everywhere. It was what had led her to the kissing bridge, carving their initials there as if she could funnel some of it out into the physical world. 

They sat together in the car and watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky going yellow, then pink, then a hazy blue-grey. Richie wriggled her shorts and shirt back on as Bev pulled Richie’s flannel over her head. Richie reached over to tip her face up; the swelling around her eye was still tight and painful looking. 

“Still hurt?”

“A bit,” said Bev. She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Can I stay at yours tonight?”

“Yeah… yeah, of course. Your dad won’t -?”

“He won’t even notice,” said Bev, giving her a small, slanted little smile. 

“Yeah. It… you know, it sucks that you couldn’t stay in Portland. Like, obviously, it sucks for you, to have to keep living with that motherfucker. But… I’m really glad you’re here, Bevvie.”

There were warm arms suddenly around her middle, damp hair pressing into her shoulder. 

“I’m glad too,” Bev said, muffled. “You’re a really good friend, Richie.”

“Ooh,” said Richie, because she could never ever let a moment linger, “wait, though. Aren’t we fuckbuddies now? Can I introduce you at parties as ‘my fuckbuddy, Beverly’?”

“We don’t get invited to parties,” Bev pointed out, “because we’re losers.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And if you start to introduce me as your fuckbuddy, Eddie will hear about it.”

“ _Ugh_.”

“Then she’ll give me one of those _looks_. You know.”

Bev squirmed closer and tugged Richie’s arm around herself, so that they were cuddled together, Richie’s back against the car door, Bev pressed to her front. 

“She has a _look_?”

Richie couldn’t see her face, but she got the strong feeling that Bev was rolling her eyes.

“Yeah. When anyone challenges her for your attention, she goes all -” Bev made a hissing noise, like an angry, phlegmy cat. “You know. Territorial.”

“Uh -”

“She doesn’t like it when you pretend to like other people more than her.” Bev craned her neck around so she could look up at Richie’s face. “Hadn’t you noticed?”

“Uh, nope. Hadn’t noticed that.”

“Oh,” said Bev, settling in again. “Well. She does.”

Richie was rapidly flicking through an internal montage of interactions with Eddie, but they were mostly characterised by Richie concentrating too hard on Not Being Weird to actually notice if Eddie herself were being weird. Eddie wasn’t weird with her, right? Richie would have noticed. She noticed everything about Eddie. 

“Is she…” she managed, “do you think?”

Because Bev was Bev, she understood Richie perfectly. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “But… Richie. If she knew about, y’know.” She waved her hand a little, as if to encompass them, the car, the sex, the day they’d spent together. “I think she’d be horribly, viciously jealous. Of me. I think she’d be spitting mad.”

Huh. Richie opened her mouth, then closed it again and tightened her arms around Bev. 

“Do you think you’ll, um -” she said eventually, “with Bill?”

Bev gave a little shiver, then a giggle. “I dunno. Maybe I only like girls now.”

“Fuck off, you still want to hop on that dick.”

“ _Richie_!”

“You do! You’re only lying to yourself, Beverly.” She squeezed Bev’s hip, then shoved at her lightly to get her to move. “Come on. Let’s go home. I think my mom left bagel bites in the freezer.”

“Gross,” said Bev, as if she wasn’t going to shovel hers into her mouth when they were still molten hot, then steal half of Richie’s. 

“Your face is gross,” said Richie, squeezing herself over the center console to get back into the front of the car as Bev sensibly used the doors. 

“You still love me,” Bev said, sliding into the passenger side.

“Yes, Beverly. Despite your disgustingly hideous physical appearance, I’m the only one who can see past it to the true beauty of your soul.”

“Better kiss me before the last petal of the rose falls off, and I’m cursed forever!”

Richie leaned over and kissed her on the sweet little tip of her upturned nose, then another one on her cheek, careful to avoid her eye. She felt Bev’s face moving as she smiled. Richie drew back and pantomimed a critical once-over.

“Hmm, nope. Didn’t work, you’re still revoltingly ugly. Maybe you’ll have to try Big Bill’s big dick after all?”

“Well, if it’s the only way,” said Bev, still smiling. “Hurry it up, Tozier, I’m starving.”

“Yes, Master,” Richie Igor-rasped. Bev smacked her with an unpleasantly damp pair of discarded panties. 

“Agh! No, not the face!” Richie scrabbled for the keys and tried feebly to fend her off. “If I let you pick the music will you stop assaulting me?”

Bev considered this, then stuffed the panties back into the pocket of her jeans. 

“Got it,” she said. “You love Marky Mark, right?”

Richie gave a dramatic groan, but Bev only grinned at her, and she looked so radiant that try as she might, Richie couldn’t summon anything but delight.


End file.
